


Jungle fever

by RussianWitch



Category: Riddick (2013)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stakeout shenanigans</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jungle fever

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd  
> cleaned up a little as of 10/8/16

 

Running surveillance is one of Rafe's least favorite things. They've been stuck in a cave in the middle of a jungle for two weeks now, waiting and hoping that their mark will show up at the base they are observing as the information they have been provided with promised. Visual surveillance, because the people the mark is running with are clever enough to regularly scan for any and all kind of surveillance equipment. He hates that his two companion don't seem to have any problems with the situation. Shifting Rafe squints into the darkness at the back of the cave where two bodies are curled around each other on the makeshift pallet they've rigged for sleep.

He isn't jealous.

He's too damn old, and worn to be jealous of anyone or anything.

Especially of the woman who's like a daughter to him, and a half feral man who'd either gotten Rafe's only child killed, or killed Johnny with his own bare hands. These days, Rafe isn't sure he'd want to know the truth if anyone did offer it about the events of all those years ago, because Riddick sure as shit will never tell. After the killer had showed up miraculously bounty free, and finished with his 'business' whatever that might have been, just in time to keep Rafe from missing his latest bounty, Rafe decided not to ask questions. Dahl hadn't been pleased: they didn't need a loose cannon at their backs after all, but her objections mercifully proved false. Riddick, turned out, could follow orders when he felt like it even if said obedience was accompanied by a lot of unnecessary commentary, and in Dahl's case crude offers which had only tapered off recently. Rafe isn't sure how they had worked that out, hates to speculate because that unavoidably leads to imagining them in a clinch rutting while still fighting each other to get on top.

Not that he can blame Riddick: Dahl is a lovely woman.

If he could have gotten past thinking of her as 'daughter', and been a decade or two younger...

Rafe hasn't heard them, but then soldiers tend to learn to be quiet about everything in the barracks, even fucking. Hasn't managed to spot any bruises either, and that does make him wonder: Riddick not seeming the type to bother being particularly careful. Shaking himself, Rafe forces those thoughts away, turning to check on the base again. He doesn't care what the kids do, he reminds himself, especially when they are polite enough to keep it out of his sight and hearing. It's already bad enough he has to watch them spar: Riddick barely bothering to dress, taunting Dahl by aiming to destroy her tops while not allowing her the chance to retaliate. Their playtime leaves Rafe on the side lines trying not to watch muscles move under strangely blemish free skin. When they had dragged Riddick off the outcrop and out of the jaws of the local wildlife way back on the hellish planet, there had been a hole in the killer's chest the size of a fist. Rafe has noticed that not even a trace of it remains now.

Aside from leaving Rafe contemplating things he shouldn't be contemplating, the observation leaves him with the uncomfortable suspicion that what he has taken on as part of his crew isn't entirely human. Not a lot is known about the Furyans, living on different planets has done a hell of a lot weird crap to humanity, space had done a number on the whole original race... Rafe is all too aware that even Riddick himself might not know what he is; if he's normal or some kind of mutation.

That he's lusting after a creature, should be a deterrent.

Should be.

Only then he catches a glimpse of the powerful back, or arrogant grin, and WANTS.

They should have taken a job on one of the more civilized planets: lower bounties, and more hassle from the 'officials', but at least Rafe would be able to take a night off. Go to some watering hole with a lot of friendly people to fuck: get whatever he's caught out of his system. He's never slept with any subordinate of his before, never even really thought about it. "Gonna strain something, thinking that hard." The words can't be called a whisper, nor a growl, something in between that tickles Rafe's ear. Only years of training keep him from moving an inch in reaction to the killer at his back. A huff against the back of his neck tells Rafe that Riddick is pleased with having startled him despite the lack of reaction: probably smells the adrenaline surge.

"Hasn't anyone told you that it's not polite to sneak up on people?" He asks, hoping the younger man will back off now that he's had his entertainment.

"Might've: wasn't listening." The killer shrugs, brushing against Rafe as he stretches out at his side and reaches for the scope.

"Why am I not surprised?" Rafe snorts wondering who's had the balls to try.

"Might take with the proper incentive—," The former convict answers, seemingly absorbed in watching the compound below. Rafe wonders if Riddick's eyes are a help, or a hinder in the dusk. For efficiency's sake, Riddick takes the night shifts leaving them to stare at the assembly of houses in the bright sunlight.

"If you're bored—?" Even when there is nothing to do, there are always chores that need doing: cleaning, tidying, finding alternatives to MRE rations that all three of them despise with a passion.

"Offering ta entertain me?" The killer rolls onto his back, belly up but not less dangerous for it. Rafe isn't stupid enough to believe his hand won't get bitten clear off if he tries to reach down for a scratch.

"You just volunteered to take the rest of my shift." He decides standing, wincing as all the kinks in his back straighten out snapping like dry twigs.

"Did I now?" The smirk doesn't disappear, but Riddick does seem to lose interest in getting on Rafe's nerves, rolling onto his stomach to take up the scope. With a final glance at the muscular ass covered in brown leather, Rafe retreats to the back of the cave in search of food. It might be a retreat, but if it keeps him from getting drawn in to whatever game the former convict has thought up to keep himself amused, Rafe will suffer the indignity of it.

He's no one's damn toy.

"Whatever you say, Boss." Riddick calls after him, like he can hear what Rafe is thinking.

Sitting down with a flask and one of the damn rations should be a respite, only he feels another stare on his back. Since Riddick has actually turned to his task, it can only be the other bane of Rafe's existence. She sits up with a huge yawn when he turns to look, scratching her side with vigor. It's impossible to tell if she's been awake all the while, or just became conscious. "Looking constipated there, Boss." Dahl offers in lieu of anything resembling 'good morning' getting up to check her rifle, then heading over to Rafe and the supplies plopping down with a flask of her own. "Don't." He snaps, stuffing tasteless crap that passes for food in his mouth, aware that Dahl has demonstrated terrifying ability to read him on occasion. "Just making conversation." She shrugs, but for once he doesn't want to have any sort of conversation with her. Not as long as he's still fighting to keep himself from snarling at her with envy. "Guess you don't need a decent bed, to get out of the wrong side of it." She snipes anyway. Giving up on trying to eat, Rafe throws a ration at her head in answer.

"Mind your own business." He snarls softly, hoping that Dahl will finally take the hint.

"If you want to change shifts—," She keeps going oblivious to how much Rafe doesn't want to talk to her, or more likely just ignoring it. Changing shifts, wouldn't make much of a difference: they'd find time to fuck while he's resting or on patrol anyway, there is no way to keep them apart as much as he'd like to. "I don't. Just want this to be over with. We can all do with a bit of civilization." Or he can anyway.

"We've had worse." She shrugs, but they didn't have Riddick along then distracting Rafe from his duties, so as far as he's concerned even the swamps had been better than this, swarms of stinging bugs and all.

When he's done with the MRE, Rafe has no choice but to disarm and find his way over to the bedding. It smells of all of them by now, and still... Getting rid of his boots and vest, Rafe spends a moment just airing out his skin. His eyes stray to the leather clad ass, and Rafe tells himself he's just looking into the bright daylight past the cave opening. Eventually he closes his eyes, aware that he does need the rest, but with sleep elusive all Rafe can do is lie there and listen to the small sounds of movement as the other two move around. Rafe finally falls asleep to the sound of their quiet voices, and the occasional laughter drifting down from the mouth of the cave.

He wakes up sweating, a furnace at his back. For a moment Rafe doesn't know what is going on, or even where the hell he is, because the heat against his back is too damn distracting: it goes straight to his dick. Unfortunately before he can enjoy it properly, memory returns and Rafe sits up twisting around to gape down on the killer who's been cuddled up against him. A quick survey proves that Dahl is at the front of the cave keeping watch: could be she hasn't noticed, or that she doesn't mind considering the cramped quarters. For a spacer, Rafe knows he's inordinately fond of his personal space. The only question remaining is Riddick's reason to sleep that close. With a silent curse, Rafe makes himself get up, grab his boots and get the hell out before the other two notice how snug his pants have gotten. 

He swings himself out of the cave and onto the narrow ridge that leads to the back of the mountain, ascending to a small plateau further up to take a piss, and get his head straight. They had been lucky to find the way up, eliminating the need to sort out several facilities they don't have to think about now. The small pool provides fresh water, and the opportunity to wash up...or take a dive in when one feels overheated. The cool water can wash away the imprint of Riddick's body on his back. Rafe takes a deep breath, and dives as deep as he can letting the deep cool his troubled mind. Coming up he floats in to a secluded niche to lean back against the smooth rocks. His dick is still half hard, and the temptation to touch is just to great. Besides he needs some kind of release to keep from going out of his mind completely.

Rafe tries not to think about anything in particular: concentrate on the sensations of water swirling around his body, the slightly rough texture of the stones at his back, his hand warm on his own flesh  gun calluses' catching on skin. Thinks about broad backs, powerful arms and rough touches—and unavoidably about Riddick pressing him back in to the bedding, pinning Rafe down, but letting him struggle until he's exhausts himself against his grip. He imagines the weight of Riddick's body on top of him, thrusting up and feeling their dicks slide against each other. Lips and teeth, scratches and bruises, sweat and spunk, strength against strength until they are both sated and sleepy no longer touching to excite, just to enjoy the other's presence, the knowledge someone is near watching your back. His hand moves faster and faster as images of copper skin, and annoying grins dancing behind his eyes.

Gritting his teeth, Rafe comes without a sound, his come floating away on the current while he catches his breath.

The orgasm not as satisfying as he'd hoped, but a relief none the less.

Dragging himself out of the pool after a rinse, Rafe indulges. He lazes on the bank until his skin is dry, before dressing and making his way back to the cave.

Dahl looks up from the scope with a frown, "Where the hell is your pet con?" She asks, "Not much point of having shifts if everyone keeps switching randomly is there?" 

"Didn't see him." Rafe shrugs, all too aware that this doesn't mean Riddick didn't see  _him_. The possibility of having been watched while he jerked off prickles down Rafe's spine and settles hot and heavy in his gut. Fortunately the camp below them livens up, so Rafe can concentrate his attention on guessing if the man they've been waiting for is arriving, instead of calculating the odds of having been watched by the man he's been thinking about. Still, the thought keeps him warm after he finds his bed again.

**********************

Two days of boredom and frustration later, they finally get a visual confirmation that their target is present.  "Playtime." Is the only warning they get, before Riddick disappears over the plateau edge, leaving Rafe and Dahl to scramble for their weapons. Gun in hand Rafe follows secure in the knowledge that Dahl is ready to give them cover.  He doesn't bother to be quiet figuring that by the time he's at the camp the element of surprise will be lost anyway. Riddick is a ghost somewhere in front, and the first alarmed screams start while Rafe is only three quarters of the way down. He adjust his heading in the general direction of the screams, and shoots the first armed person he sees followed by another, and another.  Not much time for thinking safe for keeping count of the number of cartridges he's still got. Clearing a corner, he gets to enjoy the sight of Riddick in his element for a few brief seconds: t he killer going through five men with economical skill. The curved blades become part of his body as Riddick twists and lunges, leaving corpses behind as he goes, freezing only when several bullets zing past dropping reinforcements before they can open fire.  The predator turns flashing a grin at the sky, at Dahl who's tracking their every move through her scope. Rafe doesn't rate a look, despite being sure that Riddick knows he's there. They work through the camp, Riddick going through the thick of it with Rafe at his back and Dahl watching their flanks from her perch.

All in all, it doesn't take long before they are in the clear, the bounty and a couple of others who set off Rafe's scanner vacuum-sealed for transport. Taking advantage of the shade the prefab huts provide, Rafe checks the perimeter, but keeps getting distracted; his eyes drawn to the predator circling between the huts, looking for stragglers. Riddick looks up, bares his teeth at Rafe changing direction to stalk him instead. Rafe bites the inside of his cheek ignoring the heat in the pit of his stomach at the sight, thinks about navigational calculations and the state of his bank account; all the boring shit that might keep his mind off the killer stalking him with a feral grin. Somehow he finds himself crowded against the wall of the prefab, Riddick close enough that Rafe smells blood, sweat and musk coming closer and closer. 

He's boxed in against the metal wall, one of the shives unnervingly close to the back of his neck. His hands tighten on the shotgun in reflex, but Rafe resists the urge to raise the gun unwilling to give Riddick more evidence of his nerves than the younger man can already smell. Their breath mingles, Rafe is faintly amused to realize he's actually the taller one out of the two of them, he can't suppress the grin that twists his mouth. The killer takes it as an invitation, leans in, up, whatever, thick tongue dragging along Rafe's bottom lip, sharp teeth following: hot, savage— not something Rafe should be doing. Swallowing a tortured groan Rafe pushes roughly at the broad chest, pushing Riddick away dragging the back of his hand across his mouth to erase the taste of the young man, erase the temptation before he does something unforgivable. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snaps, and watches confusion bloom on the killer's face, disappearing and getting replaced by something stubborn and angry. Riddick sets his jaw, cocks his head in a way that sets off every warning flare Rafe's got. With baited breath he waits for an answer only to get the young man's back instead. The killer stalks off, speeding up when he reaches the edge of the base, disappearing into the jungle. With a curse, Rafe slumps against the wall cursing helplessly, jealousy and regret turning his mood foul. "That wasn't very nice, Boss." Dahl 's pissed off voice in his ear all of a sudden.

"Yeah, sorry, I—won't happen again." He mumbles into the comm, feeling ten years old and caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Good luck convincing him of that!" She snarls much to Rafe's confusion.

"Him?" He demands, "what are you talking about? Dahl, I don't care how bored you are, and what games you are playing—"  "Two of us? What the hell are you talking about, Boss?" She asks in return.

Could he have read things wrong? He'd seen the looks, they way they ignore each other's personal space—"Is that why?! You thought??? No! Really, Boss: NO !" She's laughing at him, and Rafe can barely resist the urge to slam his head against the metal wall a time or ten. "You mean you actually didn't notice him practically humping your leg every chance he got since we got here?!" 

"Jesus, Dahl!" Rafe growls deciding that the whole fucked up situation justifies him sitting down on the job for once. He slides down the wall, keeping the shotgun across his knees, thinking of all the things he could have been doing for the last weeks— "What?" The damn girl questions unrepentant. "It was sort of cute really! Or didn't you realize he only does what you tell him because he _likes_ you?" 

"Jesus!" Is the one thing he can think to say. Had he been _that_ blind? That caught up in his own lust and guilt and all that shit? "Can you still track him?" 

"He's—around, yeah." Dahl's tone is hesitant. "Want me to—" 

"No!" Dahl near a pissed off Riddick is the last thing he wants, jealousy still twists in his gut even after her assurance that he's been imagining things. "No, get down here and get the cargo ready for transport. I'll go—I'll—just give me the coordinates." He growls frustrated, getting to his feet as soon as the comm display on his wrist pings announcing incoming data.  "You're gonna own me, Boss! Especially if you end up fucking while I'm doing the clean up!" He doesn't bother answering, in fact makes an effort to forget her last comment as soon as possible and  concentrates on checking the shotgun just in case. The base might not be a threat any longer, but who knows that's roaming the jungle further out, one pissed off killer aside. Of course, considering Riddick is licking his wounds, it doesn't really surprise Rafe that the coordinates take him to another fucking mountain and into a half hidden cave entrance. Rafe sends a text to Dahl's comm, says a prayer to the All Mighty missing a flamethrower like a right arm and goes in with only the light on his vest lighting the way. Keeping to the main tunnel, he slowly works his way deeper and deeper hoping to hell nothing will turn up at his back.

Three twists later, there is a cavern: low but less dark than the tunnel with natural air holes letting in some of the daylight. The back wall glistens with water; all in all a nice little hideaway for anyone who doesn't mind roughing it. "Riddick!" Rafe calls, but doesn't get an answer. The comm tells him that the killer is close, probably somewhere in the endless shadows, or a nearby corridor. That Rafe doesn't see any other way out of the cavern doesn't mean anything. He's tempted to scan the space, only that would mean taking his eyes off his surroundings.

Instinctively he moves in to the biggest clump of shadow, stopping only when a warning growl sounds, and silver eyes flash in the beam of his light. Rafe closes his eyes, and concentrates on the sounds around him. He ignores the sound of his own breathing, the dripping water and shifting rock, straining his ears in the hope of hearing Riddick moving in the darkness. A pebble rolls somewhere to his left, Rafe turns towards it, apologies on the tip on his tongue. He's knocked off his feet, ending up on his back with his gun somewhere just out of arm's reach, the weak light illuminating the killer's snarling face. Before Rafe can formulate a defense, or even draw another breath, the killer is gone and sounds of fighting fill the cavern. Scrambling to his feet, painfully aware that with the fight going on in the darkness around him, trying to look for his gun is too hazardous. He's forced to wait it out, staying out of the way as much as he's able. Shapes appear and disappear in the beam of his light, too fast to see properly. He tears the light off his shoulder, to be able to aim it better and manages to discern Riddick in combat with something large and pale, silver eyed _something_.  The light is enough to paralyze the creature that has not seen light before, allowing Riddick the respite needed to gut it, hovering over the corpse until the last shudder stops. 

Finally the killer straightens up, shaking himself like a dog. "Stupid." He comments without turning around, and Rafe itches to shoot him. "What ya doing here, merc?" Is growled in his face a moment later, as Riddick crowds him against the rocks.  Adrenaline sings in his veins, the realization how close he'd been to being killed had it not been for Riddick's interference.  "Looking for you."

" Shouldn't've bothered." Rafe feels the side of Riddick's knife on his thigh, the bastard actually wiping the creature's gore off on Rafe's pants.  "I wouldn't have had to, if you'd stayed to help with the clean up." He fights the urge to try and get the crap off his pants, wondering why he's even bothering. Then Riddick pushes the goggles up, close enough that if it wasn't for his tack vest they'd be chest to chest, and Rafe remembers. "Wasn't feeling very welcome."

Rafe's hands find the killer's belt without his say so, fingers hooking behind it, making sure Riddick won't get away without a fight. Not that the younger man is making any attempt to get away from him. Silver eyes in the gloom, far too close for  comfort, and not close enough. "Yes, well—," Rafe's fingers slip between warm leather, and warmer skin greedy for the almost purr that escapes the killer's mouth. "Won't happen again." He swallows half expecting to the killer to laugh at him now, push him away and disappear.

Riddick grunts his acceptance of Rafe's promise instead.

Scents the air not so subtly, grinning when Rafe twitches. "Now, how about showing some gratitude for keeping your ass from getting chomped." The young man pushes even closer, and Rafe can guess what the reward is supposed to be. Rafe can feel Riddick's arousal against his thigh, hot and heavy rubbing against his crotch. He'd protest that he's too damn old for fun and games in a dark cave, but his body is telling him differently. Rafe's mouth water at the prospect of sucking dick again; sucking a killer's dick to boot. "Or, are ya going all shy on me again?" Rafe growls in answer, biting at the killer's smirk until Riddick is off balance enough that he can spin them around slamming the young man against the rough stones. Of course the convict just laughs, and tickles Rafe's throat with his blade. Rafe catches Riddick's wrists, forces the killer's arms up until he has them pinned over the young man's head. "Don't move." He whispers harshly, bending to lick across the young man's throat. Every muscle in Riddick's body tightens, Rafe half expects to be pushed away only for the killer to huff and relax.

Riddick tastes of sweat and blood, smells like the jungle and cool cave dirt. He purrs when Rafe's stubbled cheek scrapes across his chest on the way down. Rafe's knees hit the sand painfully, he doesn't care a damn, drops his gun and attacks Riddick's belt. Of course there is no other barrier between Rafe's mouth and the killer's straining dick, but the pants Riddick is wearing. He breathes against the straining flesh memorizing the scent of him, licks along the seam of thigh and torso to the base of the hard flesh. The lamp at his shoulder gets in Rafe's way, so he turns it off to Riddick's amusement, rips it off his vest to get it out of the way. Returns blindly to his self-appointed task, mouthing along a thick vein until he can wrap his lips around the crown. "Knew this'd be good." Riddick slurs above him, hips stuttering as he fights the urge to thrust. He digs his fingers into hard muscle to keep accidents from happening. He's missed the feeling of heavy flesh on his tongue, filling his mouth making him work for his pleasure. Riddick groans above him, if his mouth wasn't full Rafe would grinning at the sound of fingers clawing at the wall as the killer fights to keep still. It takes a while for Rafe to adjust, get the hang of the whole thing again, risk swallowing Riddick whole.

His hands migrate to Riddick's ass without Rafe's say so, pull the killer closer so he can choke on the hot flesh in his mouth. Breath is overrated anyway, when he can take someone like Riddick apart: make the killer howl how that he has him. "Johns, ya been holding out!" He's trying for taunting, only his voice breaks, disintegrates into a drawn-out moan. Rafe just sucks harder going lightheaded from lack of air. His jaw aches and so do his knees, but at the same time his dick is practically ripping through his pants hard and heavy, just one stroke and he's gonna go off like a shot. "Rafe!" The killer moans above him, slurring and panting. All of it sounds like music to Rafe's ears, only makes him try harder to make Riddick  _ask_. Wonders what the Furyan would sound like getting fucked, wonders if he's going to get a chance to find out.

Rock crumbles above Rafe's head, Riddick slurs curses, and Rafe couldn't be happier except maybe if his dick wasn't trapped in his pants. "Rafe!" His name is a curse, a demand, and along with the hand tangling in his hair. Rafe half expects the hand in his hair to tighten, for Riddick to take control greedy for release; what he gets is his name moaned in supplication. He rakes blunt nails along Riddick's spine, gropes the tight ass, sucks harder on the dick in his mouth eager to see his killer lose it. He forces his eyes open, looks up despite the darkness to catch a hint of silver glow: proof he's being watched in return. Rafe shifts, twists a little, and rubs himself against the younger man's leg adding to his own pleasure.

Rafe feels Riddick's body shaking, it's his only warning before Rafe's mouth is flooded too fast for him to swallow down dripping messily down his chin and throat. When the dick in his mouth goes soft, Rafe finally pulls away sagging to the side to take the pressure off his knees. Finally goes for the fastenings of his own pants focused on getting off. His hands are knocked away, a pleasant surprise, a rough hand digs him out of his shorts stripping Rafe's dick mercilessly. Riddick crawls over him; heavy body half on top of him. Hot breath against Rafe's throat, then an equally hot tongue licking away the mess drying on Rafe's skin. Blindly he reaches for the other man, forces Riddick's mouth towards his own; meeting it in a sloppy tangle of lips, teeth and tongue. The hand on Rafe's dick tightens painfully, thumb rubbing harshly just under the head and he's spilling into the cruel hand, gasping into the smirking mouth. "Beautiful." Is breathed against his cheek, the hand on his dick turning gentle before reluctantly disappearing, but the heat of Riddick against his side remains. If it wasn't for the pebbles digging into Rafe's back, and common sense nagging that where one carnivorous creature was keeping itself there is bound to be another one, he would happily pass out for a bit. Instead he feels around for his gun, dragging it close while trying to convince himself to get up. To his inner amusement the soft sound of protest that come from his side sound a bit sleepy. "Find your goggles. I'm turning the light back on." He mumbles, waiting a moment before flicking the switch. With the lamp on again, Rafe can't help study the young man still sprawled on the floor, gets to enjoy the sight of a feline stretch before his gaze snags on the comm unit still on Riddick's arm. The receiving light is on, possibly has been on the whole time. "You listened to my conversation with Dahl." He keeps his voice level, not really angry or surprised by the discovery. The killer just shrugs, "Wasn't aware it was a private conversation."

"So what would have happened if you hadn't been eavesdropping?" He can't help ask while trying to get himself more or less presentable. Dahl is going to give him grief regardless, but at least he might feel less embarrassed if he doesn't have come stains on his pants or anywhere else. "Probably let you get eaten." Riddick informs him without a trace of shame, or remorse finally getting up and putting himself away as well.

"And how exactly were you planning on getting off planet after that?" He can't help asking as they leave the cave, Riddick leading the way with a swagger. Rafe would shoot him, has thought about shooting him for so long—and now it doesn't seem right. He licks his lips, the taste of the killer still on his tongue, wonders if he shouldn't be starting to feel guilty right about now. "Ya really think those shuttles are the only ones they got? Would've found them eventually." He's probably right, and it's not like this camp was the only one: Riddick could have hiked out to one of the others, or just stayed in the jungle until he got bored with it. One of the reasons Rafe had had trouble tracking him when he'd been still trying: the killer had always seemed to prefer to stay away from people when possible, surprising considering his rap sheet's content. "Then what?"

"Then I'd have a ship." Riddick grins over his shoulder. Rafe swallows a laugh ducking branches, speeding up to catch up to the younger man. "Because you have such a good track record with those." Riddick growls something indistinct, that has Rafe grinning like some idiot kid. The jungle eventually gives way into the clearing surrounding the former compound, Dahl sitting on the stack of vacuum-sealed corpses filing her nails between the poles that used to hold the gates. She squints at them, then rolls her eyes with a huff. "I want a new gun." She demands slapping Riddick's hand away from the case that holds her current sniper rifle. "That what they call it these days?" The convict smirks. When he reaches for the gun case again, she tries to stab him with the file leaving Rafe with the suspicion that the miss is deliberate. "Like you wouldn't know." 

Somehow the sniping has become familiar enough that Rafe can almost down it out, establishing contact with the skiff and setting out a trajectory to get it to their location. They still have to get the blasted crates out of the cave, he's almost tempted to leave them behind and replace the gear with the bounty..."He, Boss! Aren't you gonna help your favorite con haul everything down?" With a curse he drops his shotgun in her lap, and jogs after Riddick ignoring the laughter at his back. 

Retirement looking more and more attractive with every step.


End file.
